Blinded by charm.

Wherever I went, there he was. Christian was my shadow from the moment he could walk. His tender little heart was always unsure of himself, so having a “security blanket” enabled his inner self to shine. That boy’s humor was out of this world. Even in diapers, Christian could leave a room in tears. He left you in better condition than you were before him— I admired that about him.

We shared your typical big sister/little brother relationship but I recall a specific time when things seemed “different.” High School Christian was an angry Christian… I never understood how someone with such a huge heart could be so mean? The once sensitive little boy was now quick to anger and started secluding himself from family. Typical teenage boy? Probably. But something didn’t feel right. Maybe knowing there were rumors of him experimenting with pills made me constantly question him? Regardless, this was when I noticed a change in him…

“I’m going to college.” The joy I felt in my heart the day Christian shared his dreams was indescribable. The first of my mom’s kids to go to college— this was HUGE! Truth be told, he inspired me to do the same. Christian and I embarked on our college careers together, something that I’ll always remember! His dream was to own land, a blue truck and have kids and a wife. I wanted that for him, too. We all did. Deep down, I know he wanted better for himself, but he never believed he could do better. I don’t think Christian ever saw his worth the way everyone else did… he had moments but his demons kept his feet shackled to the ground. 

Sadly, the letters started coming in the mail weeks after his first semester started. Christian wasn’t showing up to his classes… at all. I think he made it to one or two classes the first week? My parents were livid. I don’t know what frustrated them more; The money and time wasted sending him to school. Or because his excuses were too simple? “I overslept.” “I didn’t have money.” “I didn’t know.” What was going on?

When I tell you, Christian was born to play the part of deception, I mean it. As lame as his excuses were, he had you convinced. The way he explained any situation was so believable, you questioned yourself for ever questioning him. He was good— full of charisma and fabricated truths. But he had to be, right? Because by this time, my baby brother was using painkillers daily. How did we not see him breaking right before us? How did we not see him slipping into the all familiar dark hole? Was our exhaustion preventing our minds and hearts from seeing eye-to-eye? We were blinded by his charm.